


As the Day Begins

by catwalksalone



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Gen, Snippet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-27
Updated: 2009-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwalksalone/pseuds/catwalksalone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was she even there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the Day Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **ds_snippets** in September, 2007.
> 
> Prompt: _i flagged a taxi long before you woke  
> the sun had not yet risen  
> morning not yet broke_

It was in the short hours when the sky shifted from black like a healing bruise that the house sighed with silence, when even Tony's buzz-saw snores stopped and the rooms themselves seemed to expand and contract with the slow breathing of the sleepers.

No wonder Ange had come to love this time best of all. This time when there was no yelling, no failing to match up to what Ma Vecchio wanted for her baby boy. No jostling for the attention of a husband against all the other priorities in his life: family, job, _car_.

She would drift through the house, touching each piece of furniture in turn, as if by doing so she could leave some kind of mark, some proof that she existed in this sprawling, brawling family. Her fingerprints, the grooves she trailed behind her all gone at day's end. Wiped clean.

Today she let her fingers linger over her wedding photograph. The two of them smiling, silver-framed, standing in pride of place. She pressed harder, smearing the glass a little. She was here. She was.

Ange didn't remember the smiling girl in the photograph and that thought was less frightening than it should have been.

She picked up her small, battered suitcase, labels in her handwriting from trips long gone still tied to the handle, marks from where she had dropped it (and herself) from a moving train. She took a last look at the photograph, marked and gleaming in the dull street light.

Tonight it would be wiped clean.

And so would she.

* * *


End file.
